


Bags not... Rick!!

by varenoea2



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varenoea2/pseuds/varenoea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First, the boys have to lose their virginity quick, to escape the mail-ordered Transvaal vampire. Then, the resulting awkward sex leads to an even more awkward crush. But things don't start to get really interesting until they've fallen off a cliff on a bus...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The hamster gets to watch...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own "The Young Ones", and I make no financial profit with this piece of writing. And anybody who says otherwise is probably a scumbag, a fascist or Margaret Thatcher.

In the turmoil of four unlucky virgins fleeing from a hungry-looking vampire, Rick runs over Mike and scrambles to his feet, running for the stairs, but thinking of something better in the nick of time.

The closet. It's not safe, going in there – you might find anything, from year-old cheese leftovers that have started evolution anew, to a gate to a different dimension – but all of this is better than being bitten to undeath.

He pulls on the handle, but the door resists. Doubling his effort, Rick finally manages to get the door open, slips inside and leans against the wood with his back.

"Get out, I'm hiding in here!"

"There's plenty enough room for both of us, Vyvyan!" Rick is unusually relieved about the raspy, annoying voice of his housemate beside his ear. Even if the vampire finds him in here, chances are that Vyvyan will first attempt to hit him over the head with something, and this might give Rick time to flee.

Outside, there are shouts and rumbling, and then thunder breaks lose over their heads, indicating that Neil has chosen to flee upstairs.

"The door needs some oiling", remarks Rick. "I could hardly get it open."

"That's because I was trying to keep it closed."

"What?! You traitor, you wanted me to get bitten?"

"No, I thought you were the vampire, twit."

"Oh, so I look like a vampire to you, do I?!"

"Not much of a difference, really."

It sounds like a heap of heavy things is being thrown around upstairs. Neil is trying to make it clear that he does not have anything against vampires as such, but will defend his life with his life.

"It's only a matter of time until he finds us here", whines Rick, and realizes he has three fingers in his mouth. "And then…"

"Well, there's still one thing we can do." There's a rough sound beside Rick's ear. It's probably Vyvyan scratching the back of his head.

"Don't even think about it."

"Well. I don't like it any more than you do. But at least it'll be dark in here, so I won't have to see you", Vyvyan ponders.

"How about… how about we just jerk each other off, and never talk about it again?" Rick suggests quickly.

"Won't do, you coward", says SPG from somewhere on the floor.

"Vyvyan! You suggest us doing… nasty things in here, with your hamster watching?!"

"He never asked me", mopes SPG.

"You hold your hands over your ears", orders Vyvyan. "And if you peek, I'll kill you."

"Aye, aye…"

Steps are coming downstairs. Slow steps. Not someone in a hurry.

"That's him", whispers Rick, and his voice breaks in his throat. Vyv's hand clamps over his mouth.

The steps sound further away from the closet. He seems to be wandering towards the kitchen. Rick becomes aware of things around him again. Vyv's hand on his mouth, the arm around his shoulder, Vyv's chest nearly touching his back. It's strange. It feels somewhat safer like this.

He thinks that this is maybe not so bad after all. The immediate danger is making Vyv more attractive by the minute, and the physical closeness is hard to resist when you lacked physical contact for 23 years. The same starvation that gave Rick a hard-on when he tried to squash Vyvyan's balls, and when Vyv threw him on the bed and jumped on top of him. It's only natural. In this situation, any body is good.

He recalls some of his wet dreams, shuddering, the ones he's always too ashamed to think about in the morning. Yeah. Vyv is as good as anything right now.

The steps are coming closer again. "Hello-oh! Don't worry, I'll find you!"

Behind Vyv's hand, Rick sneers. "Okay. What do we do?" he whispers, pushing Vyv's hand away. Can't be bad to at least know what's being offered.

He is pushed around, his back is pressed into the door. Vyvyan's spikes scratch Rick's cheek. "I got hair gel", rasps Vyv beside his ear.

Rick closes his eyes. He's trying not to think about the hamster, about his self-worth, his (admittedly somewhat deluded) self-image. There's a warm throbbing going on underneath his belly button. This isn't so bad at all. It's going to happen. Finally. Only… fuck, it's Vyvyan.

"Okay", he whispers harshly, any tone gone from his voice. "You can do it to me. But I'm warning you, this is not a prison shower, so if you think you can rush right in and…"

"Oh shut up."

Rick's mouth is suddenly smothered with another one. The nose ring crushes his upper lip against his teeth. This is gross. Vyv's beer breath is forced into Rick's windpipe. So this is snogging. Well, it might make sense to try this a little more intensely, see if it gets better.

"Can I take my hands off my ears now?"

"No! Bugger off!" replies Vyvan, and Rick can finally breathe again.

"You don't usually last this long."

There's a kick into the dark, and a loud squeak. Vyvyan's mouth comes back, tongue pushing against Rick's lips. This isn't so bad at all. Once you come to think about it, snogging is pretty nice. Rick forces his tongue over into Vyvyan's mouth. He tastes okay. The beer is only in his breath, not his spit. These lips are soft, and his tongue is even softer. The stubble, that's not how it should be, but the tongue and lips… yeah, this is nice. Rick is beginning to feel it downstairs. Yeah, why not…

Vyv's groin is pressed into Rick's hip. There's a full erection under his jeans. If Rick didn't know better, he'd say that Vyv is enjoying this.

"Ah, the old wardrobe trick!" The steps stop right in front of the door now.

Mouths stuck together, the guys re holding their breath.

"You can't hide from me in a wardrobe, you know, I can smell virgin blood!"

"This is not a wardrobe, it's a closet, you idiot!" shouts Rick, encouraged by the progress they made in here.

"Get out of the way!" There is a heavy sound. Vyv seems to be moving stuff. Rick is pushed away from the door. "There. That should hold him up for a while."

Adrenaline is rushing in Rick's head, along with several other hormones. He lets Vyv grab him by his upper arms, and pull him down to the floor. They lie in the darkness and listen to the sound of the door rattling against lots of furniture.

Vyv suddenly pulls Rick's belt open. "Get them off, come on, we have no time to lose!"

"You can't rush something like this!" shouts Rick.

"You tell him!"

Rick fumbles his pants off. He feels Vyv move against him, first demin, then warm flesh. Fuck. There's that erection again.

Vyvyan's heavy body pushes Rick over, face down, and nearly squashes him. For a second, there's a nasty sound, squishing, and cold stuff drips and smears all over Rick's thighs and buttocks. He just hopes that idiot has enough left to rub on his cock.

Vyv's hands roughly part Rick's legs, and now Rick gets that really cold, rushing feeling in his belly. He's scared as hell. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to calm down by breathing deeply in and out.

Cold, wet cock between his legs. Pushing against the space in between.

"Higher. No, not that high, lower… yeah, I think this is it." His voice sounds cold and clear. It's not sexy, but it must be done.

There's pressure, but it's not pushing in. This can't be true. They didn't go all this way just to discover that it's not going to fit. Rick wants to cry about the absurdity.

"Rick, I think you're too cramped."

"Well, you would be cramped too, know-all!"

"You gotta… you gotta push."

"Me? You gotta push!"

"No, like, like you're doing a number two."

"WHAT?! That's the most stupid idea ever, what's that supposed to be good fo- ARGH!" Rick cries out and slams his forehead into the floor. Fuck, this hurts. But he'll be damned if he cries. He's not going to cry, damn it, and he tries to will the tears back under his eyelids. Vyvyan on top of him is holding still, breathing deeply and quickly, their hips pressed together. What erection Rick had left is now softening.

The pounding and scratching against the door has stopped.

"Aw, you're no fun any more!" complains the South African vampire outside, and the steps slowly walk away from the door. Even the steps sound sulky. "Bastards. Tricked me…"

The front door opens and slams shut.

Rick breathes out.

"He's gone."

"Hah… this feels good…"

"Get off me, you perv!"

Vyv leans his forehead against the back of Rick's neck. "Uh… let me come?" he begs, his voice high and scratchy.

"No way in hell are you going to come in my… get off me!"

"Please!"

"GET OUT!"

Vyv exhales and pulls out. Rick winces. The pressure on his back is gone. Now it seriously begins to hurt. He whines and fumbles for his pants, but they're hard to find in the darkness.

Vyv snorts. "That was the worst first time ever. Thanks, you cunt."

"Well, it's hardly my fault if you don't know how to use your… equipment, is it!" snaps Rick.

There is some rumbling, and the door opens. "SPG!"

Something jumps over Rick, who is trying to pick his trousers up in the half-light.

"Oh no, now I'm blinded", says the hamster, and then the door slams shut behind him and Vyvyan.


	2. Fancy that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

It's a cold, grey morning, and Rick doesn't want to get out of bed. It's warm and cosy in here, and also, he's not done with the general inspection of his bottom condition. He doesn't usually check on these things in the mornings (although it's an important thing to worry about), but now he's feeling consequences to the broom closet events yesterday.

First, it hurt, then it slowly stopped, after an hour or so. Now, as if he's suffering from a case of sore muscles, it's back, and he feels it every time he sneezes, coughs, or moves his legs.

For the umphteenth time, he tries his sphincter muscle. Yep, it still stings.

Can you walk with something like this? Rick has heard that some people couldn't.

There's a knock, not exactly a polite one, and then: "Rick? Rick, are you awake?"

He rolls on his back and turns his eyes upward. "No. I'm sleeping. Bugger off."

Vyvyan – note, actually using the door handle! – comes into the room. "Are you still in bed?" he asks when he sees Rick.

"No, Vyvyan, I'm out on the roof, singing opera. What do you want?!"

"Oh… just checking if you're alright."

"Ahaha. Now what do you want?"

"Just asking. You're not feeling… funny, are you?"

"Funny how?" Rick sits up. This tone of pathological interest doesn't sound good.

Vyvyan coughs. "Well… well, I… I had a look at my books, and I read that… you know, what we did can be dangerous when you break something. You can get a nasty infection." He coughs again, and scratches the back of his head. "I found… I found some blood on me, 's why I'm asking."

Rick sits up, pain forgotten, and snarls: "I'm not discussing my health with you of all people, and neither my bottom, so you can just sod off and get on Mike's nerves, or Neil's, I'm sure he'd love to tell you everything about his!"

"Aha. So you're fine. Great." Vyvan rubs his hands and turns to leave.

"No, I'm not bloody fine, I'm in bloody pain, and it's your fault!" shouts Rick.

Vyv seems to think about this, and then he takes a book from Rick's nightstand and hits Rick over the head with it. "Now you're in pain."

Rock holds his head and desperately tries to come up with a witty reply. "If I die of blood poisoning, you're the one to blame!"

"I'll start believing in blood poisoning when you're too weak to be a bastard." Vyvyan grins, turns around and leaves the room.

"Bastard", mumbles Rick, and after comparing his head pain to his bottom pain, he decides that it's a good day to stay in bed.

The door falls closed.

Vyvyan came crawling to ask if Rick was alright. Hah. He's sorry. He had better be. Rick snuggles into the cover and smiles nastily.

He's feeling bad about it. Haha.

Rick wonders if there's anything humiliating he can put Vyvyan through. To compensate for about 100.000 things, starting with chasing the girls away on Rick's party, and ending with the day he forced Rick to wear a sign saying "I'm a virgin".

Only, it strikes him, now he isn't. Weird. This wasn't even proper sex.

Oh no. Vyvyan is going to tell everybody as son as opportunity strikes, isn't he? Oh, the mockery from everybody in the house, Rick couldn't take it…

"He took it like a good bitch!"

Oh no.

"That cute little bottom is good for more than just sitting on, I tell you!"

Rick jumps up, trips, finds his slippers and reels over to Vyv's room.

"Vyvyan!"

"Yeah, what do you want?" asks Vyv, who is sitting on his bed, one foot on the other knee, scraping the dirt from under his toenails with the bread knife.

Rick slams the door shut. "You don't plan to tell them, do you?"

"Hm. Why not?" Ah. Wrong choice of words. Now Vyvyan is interested.

Rick has an idea. "Give me that knife for a second!" He could make it look like an accident… like Vyvyan slipped…

Vyv holds the knife away from Rick. "No. Get your own."

"I swear to Cliff, if you tell anyone…"

"Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna go downstairs to Mike and Neil, and say: Last night, I snogged Rick, with tongues. And then I stuck my cock into that bit he uses when he makes that unmentionable mess he always makes after we eat curry lentils, and which is so horrible we agreed never to speak about it." He pokes the knife into the mattress. "I don't want to look gross like that."

Rick swallows the insult along with the relief. "Fine", he says, and turns around to leave.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd better not walk around too much."

"Ahaha. Thanks for your concern. What do you think I am, a delicate little princess?"

"The guy who has to explain to Mike why he's limping", says Vyvyan nastily.

Rick flips him off and waddles back to his own room. It's a good day to spend in bed with Nietzsche and Marx.

Vyvyan is worrying about him. Guess his interest in physical damage comes from his course of studies. Still, it feels good. Let him worry just a little more. Let him stew. And here Rick was, thinking that Vyvyan would be the first to laugh if Rick caught an infection in his bottom, but no, he's worried…

"Oh damn." Rick stops in his tracks, mouth open.

It is then that he realizes that Vyvyan does really, really fancy him.


	3. Dropped out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the end of the series: the boys have survived the fall from the cliff. Of course. But now they're on the run. And leaving decadent, civilized society behind isn't as peachy as they thought...

Lately, Rick has had these funny dreams in which he bends an unresisting Vyvyan over his bed and pulls down his pants. Gets a look on his firm, pale arse, and then watches Vyvyan shudder as Rick puts his cold hands on him. Ah, he has no idea what he's in for…

In these dreams, Vyvyan is at first brave, but then always gets broken. Reduced to a shivering, whimpering, begging puddle. Putty on Rick's cock. Rick gets into him, not just his body but also his soul, and the most vulnerable parts of his being. The parts that can't hit Rick, but admire him and yearn for his attention.

And it's all released through the breaking point, through sexual lust, through admitting that Vyvyan wants this more than anything. The mere knowledge… Rick shivers with pleasure.

But something is wrong here. Why is his ear cold? And what is running down his neck?

Ah yes. Of course. He's asleep.

Waking up here isn't pleasant. It's cold, and Rick's head is wet. He sneezes, and tries to remember where or who he is.

Oh yeah. He's orphaned, homeless and filthy rich; he's sleeping in mud in a blanket; rain is dripping on his head, and there's a wet spot in his pants now.

Vyvyan and the others, of course, are lying under the makeshift tarpaulin roof. Only Rick got a place too close by the rim of the tarpaulin. This is their new home for the moment, since yesterday their newly-stolen bus went up in flames. They have no mirror here, of course, but Rick is sure that half his hair must have burnt off. He's scratched and bruised all over.

Vyv beside him is snoring. The fire, about three feet away from Rick's feet, is only a glow now. Rick sits up, and finally realizes that he's not the only one awake. There's Neil, sitting by the fire, huddled up in his blanket, poking around in the wood with a stick.

"Rick? Do you want some tea?"

This sounds good. Also, the fire might just dry his hair. "What kind of tea?"

"Blackberry tea."

"Where did you get blackberries?"

"Nono, just the leaves. Blackberry leaf tea." Neil takes the stick out of the ashes and stirs a pot on the coals. "And the tendrils tried to sting me, too. And they held me a lecture on the rights of wild plants."

"And where did you get the pot?" Rick takes his blanket to the fire.

"It's an old soup can. Good, huh? We're cleaning the woods from the careless marks of civilization, while making tea."

Rick pokes at the fire with the tip of his shoe. "Can you make it warmer?"

"No, Rick, I can not make it warmer", says Neil, knowing very well that Rick isn't very great on these organic things. "But if you want to make it bigger, you have to throw more wood on it and blow. – Careful with the tea." Neil passes the pot on to Rick. "The leaves are a little spiky."

"I hate it here." Rick drinks carefully. It doesn't really taste like anything except hot water. "Hiding under some rocks in the woods like some… like some… fugitive!"

"We're hiding from the pigs, Rick", sighs Neil. "That's something anarchists do, so just stop whining about the rocks, or the rain, or the water creeping into your underpants, or in your shoes, or missing the TV, or missing your bed, or missing canned beans. Or anything you dislike out here. That's what we're doing now – defying society. Heavy, isn't it."

Rick sneezes. "I didn't know it was like this."

"Hmpf. Well, neither did I", admits Neil, with less ardour than before.

Rick sneezes again, and then a boot comes out of nowhere and hits him in the head. He jumps up. "Vyvyan!!"

"Shut up."

"You threw your shoe at me!"

"You can't prove it!" comes a defiant, drowsy voice from the sleeping patch.

"It's your bloody boot!"

"Then don't make so much noise! I'm trying to sleep!"

"I'm sneezing, you bastard! Sneezing myself to death!!"

"I'm going to sleep right here, if you don't mind." Neil stretches out on the nearly-dry ground, and wraps his blanket around himself. Puts his head on his elbow and snuggles in, and then proceeds to breathe very deeply and slowly.

"Selfish bastard." Neil has taken up all the space by the fire that isn't occupied by craggy rocks. "You have the warmest place to sleep, and me?"

Neil doesn't answer.

"Shut your stupid trap! And give me my boot back!"

"Oh shut yours, Vyvyan! You have a dry, warm place to sleep, and you don't have a care in the world, so shut up!!"

"Hnnnnnngh." Vyvyan gets to his feet and stomps over to the fire. Snatches his boot out of Rick's hand, and sits on a rock as well; takes off his other boot and holds his socks close to the fire.

Rick sneezes.

"Stop that sneezing, I can't stand it!"

"Yeah. Give it to me, that's the ticket! Pick on me when I'm sick! I might catch pneumonia and die out here, away from any medical help, but that would suit you all fine, wouldn't it?"

"You would make a great guerrilla fighter. Gaaaawd, you're such a mummy's boy."

Rick swallows. No more parents. No more visits home. There's no one there to welcome him, make food for him, wash his clothes, make his bed… he'd do anything to come home and find his bed made. But no more. Nobody will ever do that for him again. He has no-one who will. All he has now is Neil, Mike and Vyvyan. And that's a bleak perspective.

Vyvyan is now looking at him, chewing on his lip. "Okay, you're not a mummy's boy", he rasps. "There. Now stop crying."

"I'm not crying, pooh-head."

"If Neil was awake, he's say something like, you need to talk about your feelings." Vyv kicks Neil carefully, and Neil grunts.

Rick looks up with bloodshot eyes and nearly laughs. "Well, my parents died, I got homeless and I got really rich, all in two days – there's not even a word for how I'm feeling. I don't think a lot of people ever get into this situation."

Vyvyan stares at the fire, opens his mouth, closes it again and then says: "If you want to… talk about it… you can talk to me. Maybe… you feel better when you got it off your… uhm… chest."

"You read that in a book and learned it by heart."

"…yes", says Vyv proudly.

"Of course. No. I don't want to talk about it, and why do you even give a damn? None of you cares about me. You three wouldn't give a shit if I died", spits Rick.

There is a bit of silence. The flames are licking upward on a new piece of wood, and it gets warmer.

"Well, I would care if you died", muses Vyvyan and scratches his chin. "For one, then I would get a third of the money, not a quarter."

"Thank you. You're a tremendous pal."

"And also…" Vyvyan shrugs, then checks if Neil still looks asleep, and continues. "I guess it's true what they say about the person you lose your virginity to. That you… get attached to him."

Rick sneers. "That's only said about girls."

Vyvyan stares into the fire some more. "Hm. I liked snogging with you", he says in a lower voice.

Rick, overwhelmed by anger and who-knows-what, fires back. "Ew! Don't be so bloody girly, Vyvyan!"

"Girly? Mee-hee? You're the one who took it up the bum!"

"Shhh!" Rick motions him to be silent, and continues in a very low voice. "That doesn't undermine my masculinity!"

"And you wear dresses. And you have braids."

"Don't be so sexist!! Anyway, just because I… experimented… once, that doesn't mean I'm girly!"

"Well, I experimented too, but it didn't make me look nearly as girly as you!"

"Aha? Well, what did you do then?"

"I snogged with SPG when I was really drunk", declares Vyvyan proudly.

Rick takes a moment to process this. "Wait. This mouth… you… you kissed me with the same lips that you kissed a hamster with?"

"And the same tongue. Had it in both cheek pouches."

"ERGH!" Rick retches and holds his stomach. "I hate you! You disgusting pervert!"

Vyvyan chuckles and wags his head contentedly.

"God, I hate this place. I hate this wood, I hate the rain, I hate your hamster and I hate you, especially. I'm going back to bed. To the cold, wet place, where water is dripping on me all the time." Rick crawls back into the mould that his body has caused in the ground. "So that I'm probably going to catch a pneumonia and die. If I don't die of some creepy hamster disease before that. Just give me the place in the rain, that's right."

Vyvyan kneels by the top end of Rick's mould, and begins to push himself under Rick's blanket.

"Vyvyan, stop it! What are you… stop it! Get out of my bed!"

But it's not much use. Vyv pushes Rick away, so that Rick has no choice but to roll over on Vyv's old place.

Where it's dry and warm, and closer to the fire.

Rick's stomach feels heavy and red-hot with indignity. He huffs, crawls under Vyvyan's blanket and curls up. Warm and dry.

Vyvyan has already made himself at home, and is sinking into blissful sleep. Rick watches him disgustedly. Water is dripping down on his head, making his middle mohawk hang to the side. Vyv just twitches his mouth, and smacks his lips.

Rick has goosebumps all over his legs. Shivers of warm and cold are taking him over, preparing him for a comfortable sleep (as comfortable as earth can get, anyway), and as he gets warmer, he watches Vyv's hair get wet and lean towards the ground.

What the hell is going on with Vyvyan lately, and is it contagious?

It is then that Vyvyan starts to snore.


	4. How to romance a cactus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick wants to charm Vyvyan. Since he can't send him flowers, it'll have to be something quite different.

In the morning, Rick wakes up angry and doesn't know why. But then he opens his eyes and sees Vyv's back and messed-up hair, and it comes back.

Who does Vyvyan think he is, coming on to Rick and pushing him around like a damsel? Forcing him to take the better sleeping place and then be fucking grateful for it?! Well, no. He's not going to do that with Rick. Nobody damselizes Rick, and nobody can act like they're a couple of lovebirds, just because of a fling.

If Vyvyan wants courting, he can have it.

 

The four guys pack up their makeshift tent and move on for a few miles. They want something closer to some village, to buy food (their stomachs are so empty that even lentils sound tempting), and hair gel for Vyvyan (who is currently using his own piss to make his hair stand up, and swears by it), and to check out the general situation – how much longer they need to lay low.

It's raining, and the little caravan looks miserable as it stumbles through the trees. Neil, carrying most of their stuff, is has pulled the tarpaulin over his head and looks like a hunched-over madonna. Vyvyan walks behind him, occasionally bumping into trees or jumping into the thicket to kill an unfortunate, squeaky little animal, and eat it despite Neil's half-hearted protest. At noon, they see a little house made of gingerbread, and eat half the roof, despite the very ardent protest of the old, warty lady who seems to own it.

As they continue their journey, Rick and Mike end up at the front of the caravan, and Rick decides that this is a good point to test the waters. And with Mike, you best start with a compliment.

"Say, Mike… you've got a way with women and all that", he begins with an amiable smile. "I think I need some advice from you."

"Mike The Cool Person, once again giving advice in the warfare of love to the young and vestal", concludes Mike. "Anytime. What do you want to know?"

Rick clears his throat. "Well… say, I like a girl, right, and I want to show her in a real old-fashioned way. You know, the way girls like it. The really cheesy way."

"Simple: write a poem for her."

"What?! A poem about Vy… I mean, a poem about ordinary carnal desire? That's not what my poems are for, Mike! If you want cheesy love poetry, go read… Shakespeare or something!"

"Well, then, invite her to some fancy restaurant."

"Ah, no, I can't do that." (Not now, at least, while they're laying low.)

"Serenade her. Borrow Neil's guitar and sit under her window. She throws a shoe, it's bad news. She throws a pair of knickers, you're in for some action."

"Ahm… no, I can't do that, because right now, we have no guitar and no window."

"Now what kind of advice do you want?" asks Mike impatiently. "What kind of a bird is she? Very special?"

"Oh yes. Very." Rick chuckles into his fist.

"Well, buy her something. It never fails." Mike crawls over a tree trunk that is getting in the way. "Works with no matter what chick. You find out what she really, really wants, but would never buy for herself. You buy it for her, she feels special and next thing you know is, you're in her panties."

Rick thinks about this. It would be so much fun to give Vyvyan a ring and ask him to wear it for Rick. "Thanks, Mike, you're a genius."

"Any time, Rick. Doing my best to get you laid. Any time." Mike inflates with pride until he's nearly 5'5, and strides on forward through the rain.

No, the ring plan won't work, because the others would notice. Either they'd see the ring, or the ensuing fight. And then they'd think Rick was really into men. It has to be something else. Something that bothers Vyvyan, but that won't make the others suspicious.

Something he really wants, but would never buy for himself…

Rick turns around and looks at Vyvyan for inspiration. His housemate/accomplice/one-time lover is gnawing away at a skinny squirrel. He looks up and flips Rick off.

Rick chuckles into his collar. This guy who is flipping him off here is really in love with him. How ridiculous. Vyvyan is helpless putty in Rick's hands, really. Funny to think that Vyv actually has any feelings in him.

But yeah, he can care, apparently. He cares for SPG, for example, who is small and helpless and furry. Well, you can't say that he's the ideal pet owner, but he is trying, and SPG has been doing fine so far… oh well, until Vyvyan accidentally killed him. Yeah. But then he broke down crying, so he must have cared.

Rick stops in his tracks, and Neil bumps into him.

"Rick, could you please not stop suddenly, I can hardly see where I'm walking here", complains Neil's muffled voice.

"Then why don't you come out of that tarpaulin and keep your eyes open?" snaps Rick, but his thoughts are somewhere else entirely.

"It's not because of me, you know, it's just that I lost nearly half of my luggage, and all the dry wood that we wanted to use tonight has fallen into the mud, and it's gonna take hours to dry again, and…"

"Would you mind shutting up, I'm trying to think here!" replies Rick sharply. That's it. Of course. What Vyvyan needs is another hamster, but he would never buy himself one, because he's still mourning.

Oh yes. That's it. Sometimes you have to be kind to be cruel.

 

In the afternoon, they find a new and relatively dry place to stay, under some rocks, and they build up a new fire and make some more tea.

"Ehm, guys… I'm going to the town to buy some food. Is anybody coming?" inquires Neil.

"Yes, me, Neil!" Rick jumps up. "I can't wait to go back to civilization. There's something I really want to buy."

"Great. You can help me carry the lentils."

"Ah hum, yeah, I can, we'll see about that", smiles Rick. Nobody ever said anything about going back with Neil.

"And I need a new guitar."

"Hey, Neil", calls Mike. "Bring condoms and shaving cream!"

"What are you going to fuck out here? A tree?" asks Vyvyan, but without much energy.

"One with flowers on it", says Neil.

"What?"

"A guitar. Maybe I can get one with flowers on it."

"Haha." Rick shoves his arm under Neil's in what he hopes is a chummy fashion, and pulls him away. "Let's go. I can't wait."

 

The next thing Rick experiences is a one-hour walk with endless amounts of Neil's drivel being poured over him. Neil has taken Rick's sudden friendliness as a good sign and is now telling him everything he ever thought and considered, about live, spirituality, the position of slits on male underwear and the cosmos. But in front of the supermarket, Rick kindly says goodbye and wanders off to find a hamster.

The town's only pet shop is very small, and this makes it hard for Rick to find what he is looking for. Of course, only the tackiest, girliest pet is good enough for Vyvyan. But after shooing up all the hamsters in the shop, the shop assistant finds a white one. That's about as tacky as they come. And there's nothing to help you get over the death of a hamster like a new hamster… not that Rick wants to make Vyvyan feel better, he reminds himself. This is an act of public humiliation.

With a cage filled with hay, a wheel, food and sand (47 pounds) and a hamster in it (5 pounds – what kind of a ratio is that?), Rick makes his way back to the others. When he arrives, it's nearly dark, and the only source of light is their fire.

There's a definite smell of bread being roasted, and you can be almost sure that Neil has already started to marinate the lentils in water. Ah, good old Neil.

Mike and Neil are playing cards (probably not the same kind of game, and with different rules, but still). Vyvyan is sitting alone and staring into the flames.

When Rick approaches, he lifts his head. "What's that?" he asks, and nods towards the cage.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I thought it would be nice to have a pet, that's all." Rick puts the cage down on a tree trunk, not too close to Vyv, who is scowling at the cage. "Of course, I'm not much good with hamsters, so I'm going to need help from an avid hamster keeper, like you, just to make sure I don't make any fatal mistakes."

"You bought a hamster?" asks Vyvyan, and leans forward.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that it's a hamster", says Rick lightly and turns the cage around a bit to get a better look inside.

Vyvyan jumps up, hands balled into fists. "You complete and utter bastard!" he shouts. "SPG hasn't been cold for a week, and you buy a new hamster! Like he's a… an egg slicer!"

"Relax, Vyvyan, he's not for you. He's for all of us. Only thinking of yourself all the time, are you? The others might want a hamster too." Rick cradles the cage in his lap.

"Well, actually I would have liked a goat or something similar", says Neil from behind him, "you know, something to help us with this autarky thing…"

The fluffy white bugger is nowhere to be seen under the hay. "It's a pity you can't see him. He's white like an egg. He's such a cutesy-wutesy little baby… come out, little feller!" Rick sticks his finger through the bars and wiggles it.

Oh yes, this has gotten Vyvyan really mad. "You bloody bastard!" he shouts again, and gives the cage a good hard kick.

There is a deep hissing sound, and the hamster jumps at Vyvyan, all fours stretched out and teeth bared – until it is stopped by the cage bars, bounces off them and falls on its back, where it lies unmoving like a wounded plum.

Vyvyan is not immune to the charm of something trying to rip out his throat, especially if it's shorter than his thumb. His sneer twitches into a reluctant, approving grin.

Rick turns around and puts his arms over the cage. "Don't worry, I'll keep him and take care of him. You don't need to bother with him at all. I think I'll name him Rick. Rick the Second. Or Ricklet."

"Rickets, more like."

Rickets is slowly stirring and shaking his head. "Ow. Ow ow", he moans.

"That's what you get for messing with me", says Vyv.

Rickets lifts a tiny paw and flips him the bird. "Come here, you big bastard, I'm not done with you!"

Vyvyan just looks him up and down, then snorts sadly and walks over to his old seat.

"See, I'm already having difficulties handling him. Hm." Rick shrugs. "Seems like these things are much more complicated than I thought. But I'll manage. I won't bother you about the hamster. It's just that I can't guarantee that I won't accidentally kill him. Maybe feed him something that poisons him, like chocolate. I'm kind of worried about that, but don't you worry, I think I'll figure it out just fine. I just hope I get it right, that's all. Oh, and I hope I have enough time to take proper care of him. Wouldn't want him to end up all lonely and waste away in his cage, without anyone he can really bond with, would we?" He chortles. "I'll just have to figure out a way to tame him, but after what I've just seen, I'm kind of worried to touch him. I guess it takes experience…"

"Rick? Shut your bloody gob, or I'll kill you", says Vyv, sitting by the fire with his arms crossed.

Rick grins down at the cage, from where Rickets is scowling up at him blood-thirstily.

Vyvyan knows very well that he has lost.


	5. The battle of the poets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike takes up a new writing career. Vyvyan is impressed. Rick is jealous.

The picture is filled with the face of a clean-shaven man, his hair gelled back. He's wearing a loud, pinkish-red tie and a chequered shirt.

"Not getting enough attention?" he asks. "You have a story to tell? Scum, Mush & Sons is your friend. We will print your life story, no matter how boring it may be.! Call us now, and get a free set of cutters AND this beautiful vase with your order! Scum, Mush & Sons – we print everything!" He gives a flashing smile and holds up his thumb, and the vase.

In this moment, a pantomime horse knocks him over and gallops off into the wood. The salesman struggles to get to his feet. He has been sitting in front of a white screen in the middle of the woods.

"We're gonna have to film it again, Henry", says a nasal voice from somewhere invisible.

"Sod off", splurts Henry and spits out a little moss. "Do you own stupid commercial, I hate autobiographies! I hate them!"

"There, there, mate." Mike comes into the picture and helps the salesman back to his feet. "I liked your offer about the autobiographies, can you tell me more?"

"Oh? Oh, sure." Henry goes back to businesslike mode in less than a second.

"Mike!" calls Neil. "The lentils are ready!"

"Give me a minute!" shouts Mike back impatiently. "I have some important business to sort out!"

Neil scowls and sits down by the fire, a few yards away from Mike and the salesman. There's a little silence while Neil, Rick and Vyvyan fill their soup cans (for a lack of plates).

"And I spent two hours on this", says Neil finally, to no-one in particular. "And that's not counting the time it took for the lentils to marinate."

"Mike would rather spent his time with a capitalist bastard in a tie than us", says Rick hatefully. "Fascist."

Vyvyan looks around the place, and finally asks: "Where's the hamster?" Then he discovers the cage by a tree. He gets up, fetches the cage and puts it down beside the fire loudly. "Rick, you bastard! You left him alone over there!"

Rick grins smugly. "It's not my hamster, you know", he says, wagging his fork. "You bonded with him on day one, when he tried to bite you. He has picked you, and there's nothing you can do about it. He's yours."

Vyvyan hits Rick around the back of his neck. Rick flinches, snarls, picks up a rock and tosses it against Vyvyan's head, where it bounces off and rolls over the ground. Funny. Seems like it didn't do any damage. Rick picks it up to examine it, and see whether it's a proper stone at all.

"Hey Rick, it's so cool of you to buy a hamster for Vyv", says Neil. Before Rick can even look up, a heavy "thump" is heard, followed by a loud crack.

"IT'S NOT MY HAMSTER!!" shouts Vyvyan, and starts to jump on Neil's unconscious form, cricket bat still in hand. It was the first thing he bought from his money.

Rick secretly slips a spoonful of lentils into the cage. Having a starved hamster around is dangerous for everybody involved, no matter what Vyvyan says.

 

"Now look, what I have here for you is the next top-seller", explains Mike to the salesman. "The raunchiest work of the century. Makes James Bond look like a choirboy. Lots of ladies, blond or red-haired or black, you name it. I'm thinking about a title like The Secret Life Of Mike – A Man Worse Than Casanova."

Henry takes notes. "In what colour would you like the vase? Mauve, mint or amber?"

Mike, who, like most heterosexual males, does not even vaguely know what hues of colour these would be, just nods to everything. "I'll start writing first thing tomorrow", he declares.

 

The next morning, the woods are filled with the sound of a typewriter, hacking away. Mike bought it in the evening, in the town; Vyvyan was going there with him, of course, and afterwards carried the wretched thing to the camping site.

"Now Vyvyan, listen to this and tell me what you think", Mike says.

Vyvyan leans forward and nods. "U-hum? Hum?"

"I unhooked the bra behind her slender back, and watched her breasts fall forward like two over-ripe peaches", reads Mike out dramatically. "Soft and inviting. She shivered from the cold and my investigating looks on her, and let the straps slide down her smooth arms to give me a full view. 'Oh Mike', she sighed. 'No man has ever seen me like this before! I never even undressed for my husband with the lights on!' I soothed her and took her into my strong arms. She sighed again and leaned forward into my embrace."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's good, right on", says Vyvyan, and keeps nodding. One thing the bastard can't do is fake anything. He must genuinely like this.

Rick scowls over his notebook. If these two monkeys didn't make so much noise about Mike's pathetic attempts to write soft porn, maybe Rick could find some rhymes and finally finish his poem.

Pah. It's cheap, cheesy soft core stuff. Why the hell is Vyvyan so enthused about it? It's not like it's great art. It's just something to please a simple mind, maybe for a quick wank. Whereas Rick is trying to make words that come down on you like steel bolts. Words that crash right through your mind and leave you shaken. Words that strike something in your soul. He's trying to think like Ginsberg; but when Ginsberg wrote about Rockland, he sure didn't have Mike and Vyvyan around, and also not Neil, who is singing "San Francisco" and strumming his guitar horribly to it.

"I caressed her until she lost her wits; until she submitted her everything to me", reads Mike. "Her deepest, darkest desire, the places inside her that had never been touched, until she was all woman. All female. When I finally took her, she raked her nails over my back."

Rick exhales loudly and rolls his eyes. "Mike, you're a bloody virgin, where the hell do you get that stuff from?"

"Well, so are you, so shut up", replies Vyvyan, teeth bared with the strain of listening. "I want to hear this."

"I'm not a…" Fuck. No, he isn't a virgin any more. Neither is Vyv. But he'd sooner bite off his own tongue than ever talk to anyone about it. He's not a virgin and he can't brag about it, damn it!

When he looks over to the typewriter, things are even worse. At first he thinks it's just an illusion, but no. Vyvyan has a bulge in his pants from listening to Mike's mindless drivel. And he's still drinking every word off of Mike's lips. Every now and then he nods, grins and tells Mike that this is very good.

Rick watches in disgust. Getting off on cheap shit like that, it's just revolting. He could vomit at the idea that he actually had his first time with this guy.

And anyway, what's so great about Mike? Mike is short and dresses like an idiot. And he's stumpy. Whereas Rick… well, is a bit on the skinny side, to be honest. But that's not the point! Why the hell is Vyvyan always following Mike around like a puppy? Why can Mike tell him what to do? Why doesn't Mike ever get hit with a cricket bat? Why does Vyvyan… admire Mike the way he does?

"Make some room, Rick, I need the corn flakes and the mustard." Vyvyan pushes past Rick, to the rock under which they keep their foodstuffs safe from the rain.

"I can't believe you can listen to this shit", says Rick under his breath, and desperately tries to avoid looking at Vyv's crotch area, which is just at eye height for him now. "It's evil. It's cheap fodder for the simple-minded. Drugs to keep the people calm, so they don't start thinking about what's wrong with society!"

"You've got a stack of those mags under your bed", says Vyvyan.

Rick snorts. "Well, how come you know?"

"And nearly all the pages are glued shut. Well, probably not glued shut."

"All the worse for you knowing it."

"You know what? Mike's a good writer."

"He is bloody not, Vyvyan, and you know it. This is… junk!"

"As opposed to poems dedicated to Cliff Richard's hairdo?"

"How do you… you sneaked around my note book, didn't you?!"

"Yes. When I was really bored."

"I'm disappointed with you", hisses Rick, seething. "I thought better of you than to fall for that kind of bait."

Vyvyan doesn't answer. He slouches over to Mike and sits down again to watch him type.

Just to watch him type. What a sucker.

Well, Rick is going to show him the way only Rick knows how. Face still red and glowing with anger, he starts to scribble.

 

Ten minutes later he stands in front of Mike, who looks up from his typewriter. "Mike, I need to have a word with you about this obscene, sexist, fascist drivel you're writing there", he says and keeps his voice calm with all his might.

"Fire away", says Mike.

Rick inhales and begins.

"Mike!  
Why don't you take a hike?  
Instead of scribbling all that rubbish like  
You do when you strike  
Your typewriter?  
Mike!  
I wish you were a dyke!"

"That was great, Rick, now get out of my sunshine", says Mike. "You can't write about playboy life with somebody standing in the sunshine."

"I'm not done", says Rick under his breath, fuming. "I've got one more for Vyvyan."

"Oh! Found something that rhymes Vyvyan, did you?" asks Vyv. He seems to like this.

"Vyvyan!  
Does fascist porn give you a stiffy-on?  
You bastard, Vyv!  
Not a single damn is what I give  
About you, you smelly whiff!  
Vyvyan,  
Go forth into oblivion!"

"I don't think stiffy-on is, strictly speaking, a word", says Vyv, and grins an approving grin. "But it was pretty good, for one of your poems. It rhymed."

Rick is proud. He knows that these must be among his best works to the date. "So, if you feel like coming over and admiring me for a bit, Vyvyan", he says sweetly, "and getting a stiffy about it, be my guest."

"If you don't piss off this minute, I'm gonny slash your face up."

"Fine." Rick goes back. Anger is mixing with red-hot pride. It IS good, being the best poet around.


	6. Some sad, some glad, some horny, some coming clean.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys realize something important... they should go home.

The sun hasn’t shown up for days, but at least it’s not raining. And every day, Rick hates their hiding-place more. At least they have coffee and real tea now, and Mike goes to the town every day to pick up the newspaper. He has miraculously managed to stay speckles, while everybody else is covered in dirt up to their ears. But what’s the point in going to a laundrette when you have to sit there naked while the washing is taking place?

Mike is sitting on a rock and drinking coffee, clean as a button, while Rick’s buttons have actually started to rust. He hates Mike a little more than ever.

Nobody really has the energy to fight any more.

“Tea, anyone?” asks Neil, and even his patient, gentle voice is annoying. How can he NOT be on edge and close to killing someone?

“No, Neil, we don’t want your tea”, snaps Rick. “In fact, we’d appreciate it if you left us alone!”

Neil scowls. “There’s no need to be like that.”

“There’s no need for your bloody tea!” shouts Vyvyan.

“Guys! Guys!” Mike’s voice interrupts them. “Look at that!”

They all gather around Mike’s back and look at the newspaper. Front page.

“Bank robbery case solved”, reads Rick. “After a bank robbery in London on July 14th… bla… when arrested several days later, the man admitted attacking the bank, but denied having anything to do with the unknown young men armed with water pistols, who ran away before the police arrived… man was found guilty on all charges, but the money was not found. It is thought that he hid it… declared the case closed for the time being.” The words are starting to wobble before his eyes. It’s too early to lose his cool now, but the blood is rushing to his head by the second.

“Hey, that police guy is saying we were bloody amateurs!” complains Neil.

“They’re not searching for us any more”, mumbles Rick. “The pigs don’t care about us!”

“I mean, come on, for the first time we did a pretty decent job, there’s no use saying that it was a stupid joke by some… what did they write? … silly youths!”

“Neil? Shut up. This is really important.” Mike gets up. “Guys, we’re officially out of trouble.”

“Wheeeeh.” Rick exhales. “So we are, are we? Innocent and clean as snow?”

“What? We hid in this wood for nothing?” asks Vyvyan.

“We have one problem, though”, ponders Mike. “We can’t spend the money right now. We have to give it away bit by bit, otherwise people will ask where we got it from.”

“So, no buying a great big house with a fountain in the front garden?” inquires Rick carefully.

“Of _course_ not, Rick, you bloody idiot! Everybody knows that only a capitalist pooh-head wants a house like that”, replies Vyvyan. “Especially since you told us over and over and over again every time you saw one on the telly.”

“Are you mocking me?” Rick pushes his face into Vyvyan’s. “You just watch out, my fine feller…”

He should have been warned when Vyvyan pulled his head, back, he really should. But as it is, he’s too mad to notice, and Vyvyan’s forehead hits him on the nose and leaves a temporary, star-shaped imprint.

“Oh no, guys, don’t start fighting now!” moans Neil. “Everything is fine and great, and you have to spoil it!”

“But then where are we going to live?” muses Mike.

“Well, what about Rick’s house?” asks Neil.

“Yeah, what _about_ my house, pray? That house I didn’t know I had?”

“Your parents’ house.”

Rick looks at Neil, Neil looks at Mike, Mike looks at Vyvyan and Vyvyan looks at Rick.

“Uhm… that’s a very good idea, actually”, says Mike. “It was there all along, wasn’t it? Why did we spend that night on the street, in the first place?”

“Who says I let you live in there? It’s my house, go get your own!” Slowly it starts to dawn on Rick that he doesn’t need to share.

“Oh yes, it’s our house, mate”, says Neil firmly, and gets up to stare right into Rick’s face. “That is, unless you want us to tell on you.”

“What? Well, I could tell on you too! How’s that, hippie?”

“Rick, we’re all in the same boat here”, states Mike. “Although it would be wiser to take the train than a boat, and I mean a quick one. Now all we need is a train station.”

 

It is six hours, one eventful train ride (including several broken windows and several fainting elderly ladies), one boring visit to an administrator later.

Funny to walk into this house now. It’s looking pretty empty right now, silent and cold, with the smaller household objects mostly taken away by other relatives.

This is home, but it will never be what it was before. Nobody is waiting for Rick here. It’s his turn to take over now. If it only wasn’t so silent…

“Yeah, it looks alright”, says Neil.

“Rick, are you going to stand in the doorway until you grow roots on your feet?” Vyvyan pushes past him. “Yeah, it’s alright, I suppose. We have to take all these ugly flower pictures down, but the couch looks comfy enough!”

“Is that real crockery?” Neil asks admiringly after opening one of the kitchen cupboards. “Real pots and plates and a real teapot?”

“Yes, Neil, my parents were incredibly good at cooking with actual pots”, snaps Rick.

“No more cooking with empty soup cans, wow!”

From upstairs, Vyvyan’s delighted voice calls down. “Hey, look at that teddy bear, it’s got a shirt on with “Give Mr Snuggles a kiss” on it!”

“Get out of my room!!”

Mike’s voice comes from somewhere else. “Wow, this room’s got a big bed! I’ll need that one!”

Meanwhile, Rick has chased Vyvyan out of his old bedroom.

“I didn’t want to sleep in a room with rocket wallpapers, you know, I was just having a look, Jesus Christ!” shouts Vyvyan from the vestibule.

Neil seems to be so happy about having a kitchen again that he hasn’t even bothered with a room. It seems like he wants to sleep under the kitchen table.

Rick suddenly feels incredibly tired. The mental and physical strain from the last weeks comes crashing down on him, and he rolls up on his bed and falls asleep beside the old teddy.

 

When he wakes up, he realizes that he has caused smudges on the pillow. And his mouth tastes like… well, no living thing should smell or taste like that. He needs a shower. Or better, a bath.

He slowly makes his way to the bathroom. The house is suspiciously quiet.

“Hey, can’t you knock, you pervert?!” Vyvyan is in the bathtub, covered in foam, with a pink shower cap on his head, and a brush in his hand, and looking very indignant.

“This is my bathroom, Vyvyan!” Rick sneers. “And don’t worry, I will take any measure I can so I don’t see your privates. Not that it’s necessary, because you selfish bastard just probably just used up all the bath foam in the house anyway. But now I have to brush my teeth, so stay where you are.”

“Get out, this is private!”

Rick smiles lightly and goes to the sink to grab his toothbrush. Vyvyan threatens him with death, but stays put in the bathtub. Then he finally becomes silent and stretches his limbs out of the tub.

Rick sees it in the mirror. He turns around and says: “Aah you wea’ing youah oots?”

“What?” Vyvyan says hatefully.

Rick takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Are you wearing your boots in my bathtub?!”

“Yeah.”

“You take them off at once, young man!!”

“I’ve worn them for 10 days out there now. So I thought, I had better bathe my feet before I take them off. Otherwise, the smell might get someone killed… damn, that would have been interesting.” Vyvyan stretches out one leg and pulls off the shoe; then the other. The wet black boots are carelessly thrown to the floor, and Vyvyan wiggles his toes before lowering them under the waterline again. This pushes up the other half of his body, of course.

Rick is not looking at his nipples. No, he’s definitely not looking. He’s just looking at how the skin is pink under the nipples (where it was touched by water) and dirty over them.

“You’ve got a tidemark on your chest. God, you’re disgusting. Now hurry up, I want to take a bath too!”

Vyvyan inhales very deeply, snaps his mouth shut and slowly sinks down into the foamy depths. His knees come up on the other side. Then he slowly resurfaces, hair hanging down the back of his head. The shower cap is floating somewhere on the water. Vyvyan is looking a lot more pink than before.

“Just admit it”, he says. “You really like guys, don’t you. Peace and man-love, haha. All you want is to see my noodle.”

“God, Vyvyan!” Rick hits himself in the forehead and turns to leave. When he’s by the door, Vyvyan calls him back.

“Rick, wait!”

“Yes, what now?” Rick has no patience left. He stands with the door handle in one hand.

“Come back”, says Vyv in a soft voice (well, as soft as it gets). “And close the door. Plll- ease.” (It’s not his favourite word.)

“Yes, what?” Rick is trying to find something to do with his hands.

“So, uhm… what’s this like for you?”

It’s one of these moments when Vyv’s face is nearly relaxed. Like when he’s very, very excited about a new toy he’s building for himself. He’s interested. Truly interested. His eyes look very blue, the way they’re fixed on Rick now.

The truth is, Rick feels awful. He’s hurting, he’s missing his parents who were annoying but were somewhat… you know, around. He still hasn’t quite understood that they’re dead now. He hopes it won’t get through to him at all. And his old home is currently being ripped apart and perverted by his lunatic friends who moved in with him. His old emotional ties are being undone. He has no more home to go to. The only home he’s going to get is this one, and he’s going to have to make it into “home” all by himself. He feels like a very, very young bird that has fallen out of its nest.

“I’m fine”, he snaps, and doesn’t mind if Vyvyan knows he’s not fine at all.

“Uhm, yeah. Uhm…” Vyvyan starts scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t remember much from when I was young, about my mum, I mean, but… yeah, I remember how she used to bathe me. She held me by my ears and pulled me through the water, ‘cause the water was really hot and she didn’t want to burn her fingers… or how she’d make me drink hot wine so I’d stop screaming and sleep. Or when she gave me the screwdriver and told me to play with the light socket.” He grins. “Nice memories, even though she’s an old bitch.”

“I’m moved. How interesting.” Rick bites down on his lip.

“Yeah. Anyway. I just wanna say thank you for the poem.”

“What? I don’t think you get the point. It’s a poem about you being an arsehole.”

“Yeah, but… nobody has ever written a poem about me before.” Vyvyan cocks his head and rubs some foam out of his ear. “It’s… the most bloody beautiful thing I ever heard.”

Rick’s hurt insides are starting to glow just a bit. “I’m rather proud of it, I don’t mind telling you.”

“Can I get it written down?”

“Signed with an autograph.”

“Yeah. I just want to read it over again, later.”

Rick puts his toothbrush back and turns to go, finally. If he stays any longer, he’s probably going to blush with excitement.

“Err… come over here?” Vyv, immobilized by modesty, waves Rick over to the bathtub.

“Yeah, what?”

“Closer. Even closer. Yeah, this close.” Suddenly, Vyv grabs the front of Rick’s shirt, pulls him up against his face and smashes their faces together. Oh no, not that nose ring again. Rick struggles against the kiss.

“Mmmbh!”

“Hah.” Vyvyan lets go of him, and continues under his breath: “You know, I really really do fancy you.”

Rick wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He wants to spit fire, smash Vyvyan’s face in, drown the bastard in his own dirty bathwater. But the only thing that comes out of his mouth is an indignant huff.

And the worst thing is the way Vyvyan is leering at his crotch now. Subtlety is not Vyvyan’s approach to the whole mating business anyway, but the looks he’s giving Rick should be burning holes into his slacks.

“And don’t you dare stare at my bottom when I walk out!” Rick shouts with the last bit of self-control he has.

Vyvyan grins and cocks his head, knowing that there’s nothing Rick can do about it.

Oh, now Rick is angry. He jumps at Vyv, grabs his jaw in both hands, and shoves his tongue down Vyv’s throat.

See what it’s like? You don’t like that, do you?

Vyv, when he is finally freed from the tongue, shakes his head. “Uh. Oh. I didn’t know you… oh.”

Rick wants to smite Vyvyan with the most destroying, earth-shattering, silencing insult ever said in the history of mankind, but what comes out of his mouth is: “Next time we do it, you spread!”

Vyvyan, still bedazzled from Rick’s throat-breaking kiss, croaks: “Fair enough. When’s that going to be?”

Rick’s mouth has gone dry. “I don’t know, I mean… when I had a bath.” Just to keep his poise, he adds: “Now hurry up.”


	7. In which the lovebirds come together at last.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well. Yeah.

On the way out into the vestibule Rick meets Neil, who is jumping with happiness over the washing machine in the basement. No more walks to the laundrette. Ever. Neil is also pretty much naked, because he has just thrown everything on his body into the machine.

“There’s room in there, Rick, you can put your clothes in there too!”

Rick can’t even protest. He is still too confused from the shag he just promised Vyvyan. He doesn’t even have vaseline, for Cliff’s sake. He hands his clothes to Neil, who happily carries them away. Dressed only in a dishwashing towel he found in the kitchen, he absent-mindedly slouches through the house in search of a pot of vaseline, and his heart is beating loud and fast.

In the broom cabinet, among the spare bottles of dishwashing liquid and hand cream jars, he finds some, and makes it to his room without being seen. When he comes to the bathroom, it’s empty. Vyvyan has probably locked up in his new room (the guest room; Neil has to sleep on the couch for the time being) and is doing his hair meticulously.

Rick is floating in a strange haze all the way through his bath, accompanied by an almost permanent erection. He doesn’t know why this promised fuck makes him so confused, it just does.

When he has scrubbed himself pink, little bits of dirt are floating on the water surface. He pokes them around, then climbs out of the water and checks his face in the mirror.

Not so bad. Skinnier than usual, with a certain interesting sadness around the eyes, but otherwisely healthy from so much fresh air.

He taps out into the vestibule again, dressed in his towel, and back into his room, to get dressed. There are still some slacks and shirts in the drawer, he notices…

“Took you some time, too.”

“Argh!” Rick nearly pisses his pants with the shock. He didn’t see Vyvyan when he came in.

Vyvyan is lying on Rick’s bed, in what he probably thinks is a seductive pose, and also in his trusty boots, and nothing else.

“Just one word of advice”, says Rick venomously, his heart still beating fast, “that pose would work better if you pushed out your CHEST and drew in your BELLY.”

There’s a bit of silence.

“Neil stole my clothes while I was in the bath, the bastard”, explains Vyvyan, and there’s an awkward silence again. Clearly, action needs to be taken, and a sexual mood must be induced. “Well… uhm, come on and get it like a bitch funk sex machine!”

Rick folds his arms disdainfully at Vyvyan’s shaky attempt to porn talk. “That was not very convincing.”

Vyv gets up. “Oh no? Okay, I know how to do convincing.”

“No! Wai…. Mmmmmbglh!” Not another one of those nose-ring kisses. Rick’s head is squeezed between Vyv’s, and the wall. It doesn’t help that there’s only a towel to protect him. Up close and determined to dispose of protein, Vyvyan has the passion and oppressive power of a steamroller.

Rick struggles for breath, flailing his arms, and instinctively grabs Vyvyan’s balls, which are easy to reach now.

“Nrgh!” Vyvyan goes rigid (not in the good way) and flops his tongue out of Rick’s mouth. “Argh! Let go!”

“Now listen”, says Rick, their noses almost touching. “I don’t want any broken bones from your passionate lovemaking, or I’m going to give you trouble. Trouble, do you get that?”

“What, you’re gonna hold on to them until after we’re done?” Vyvyan, recovering remarkably quickly, thinks about it and frowns.

“No, you stupid git, I’m just… ah, what the hell.” Rick puts his hands on Vyvyan’s chest and shoves him backwards in what he hopes is a passionate movement.

“Oi!” Vyv shoves him back, but hard enough to push Rick into the wall again. “What’d you push me for?!”

“I’m not pushing you”, explains Rick between his teeth, and rubs his bruised arm. “I’m trying to make you go to the bed.”

“What for?”

“To make you lie down!”

“You want me to lie down… on the bed?”

“Yes, you monkey-head!”

“Well, why don’t you just say so?”

Rick exhales and roll his eyes. “You really have no clue of seduction, do you?” He feels stupid, but he won’t admit it.

“No. ‘cause, if you say, lie down on the bed, I know you want me to lie down on the bed, but if you push me, I think you want a fight.” Vyvyan sits, knees together, and looks up at Rick expectantly.

“That’s not lying down.”

Vyv worms up on the bed backwards, and finally lies on his back, knees still together. “Now what?”

“I… uh.” Oh yes, seduction is not so easy, coming to think about it. “I’ve got vaseline.” Rick holds up the jar.

There’s a long silence.

“We could kiss first”, says Vyvyan thoughtfully.

“I suppose we could.” Rick tries a nervous laugh. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what to do? What to say, before Vyvyan gets pissed off and leaves, and this one chance to do it to him is gone?

Well, Rick will have to move toward the bed, that much is for sure.

He sits down by the bedside. His hip is touching Vyv’s, but only through the towel. He feels Vyv’s leering eyes on himself, on his exposed nipples and his arms, and on the towel. The tip of Vyvyan’s tongue is poking out, moistening his upper lip, but he’s probably not even aware of it.

Rick, meanwhile, is looking down on the glorious results of too much beer. “Any position you fancy?” he asks lightly.

“Riding sounds nice”, says Vyvyan carefully. Careful speaking, in Vyv’s case, usually means that he has no clue what the words mean. “Mike wrote something like that in his book”, he adds thoughtfully. “A bird pushing him down on a bed and then riding him. Mind you, I don’t know if she used a harness, or even put a bit in his mouth.”

Mike. This is the one name Rick didn’t want to hear now. “Oh really.”

“I suppose I could have asked Michael, but I didn’t want to look stupid to him, you know.”

Rick suddenly feels very ugly. Very skinny, very unglamorous, and very superfluous. The venom is coming up again. “Mike”, he hisses, “is just making it all up. Wake up! He’s a filthy liar, and what’s more, he’s a virgin! He doesn’t know what he’s writing about! Wakey wakey, Vyvyan!”

You can almost see the big yellow lightbulb light up over Vyvyan’s head.

“Ahargh!” he grins. “You”, he pokes Rick in the belly, “are jealous of Michael!”

“I’m ruddy well not, and you know it!” Rick is seething.

“Yes you are!” Vyv has the cheek to laugh about it, too!

“Well then, why don’t you go to bed with him? Miiiiichaeeeeel! Do you call me Richard, huh? Michael, the sound of it makes me sick! What are you, his puppy?”

And Vyv is still grinning. “Rick is jealous! Haha!”

“Why don’t you go to bed with him, huh? Go, fuck off, I’m not holding you back!” Rick’s hands are balled into fists.

“Because I don’t fancy Mike, and Mike doesn’t fancy guys anyway.” Vyv is sounding annoyed. Good. That’s what Rick wanted.

“Too bad, isn’t it? Maybe if you put on a dress, he fucks you.”

Vyvyan hasn’t ventured to move his back away from the mattress, but his hands catch Rick’s flailing arms. “Shut up”, he says. “Mike is a cool guy. Mike’s clever. He’s my friend. And don’t say anything against him unless you want a baseball bat up your back passage.” He lets go of Rick’s hands.

Rick swallows and rubs his aching wrists. “I see. And I’m not cool”, he says angrily, just because he can’t think of anything better right now.

Vyvyan folds his hands on his belly. His blue eyes stare holes into Rick’s. “You’re twisted. See, Mike only wants to eat, sleep and chase the birds. You, you want something more. You think about things. Like… capitalism, and society.” He pokes Rick in the chest again. “You’re angry about them. And you write poems about them. You’re a lot deeper than Mike.” He frowns. “Well, you’re also a pretentious fart, but Mike isn’t even that.”

Rick feels a blush rise in his face. Twisted. Angry. Deep. Oh yes. Finally, finally someone has recognized Rick the People’s Poet for what he is. His true self. Who would have thought it would be Vyvyan, of all people?

Rick leans forward, his head spinning, and presses his lips on Vyv’s. Of course, he is inevitably grabbed around the back of his head and pulled into a nose-ring kiss again, and has a tongue forced between his tonsils, but that’s just Vyv’s way of showing affection.

He doesn’t taste so bad. A little like beer.

Rick is running his hand down Vyvyan’s side. Over his hips, over his thigh… Rick’s arm brushes his erection, and Vyvyan makes a low sound and bucks his hips.

That was a good sound. Rick could feel it between his legs. But he’ll be damned if he makes it so easy for the bastard.

Vyvyan has meanwhile fumbled the towel away. His hand wraps around Rick’s cock and begins to stroke lazily. This is nice. This isn’t rough at all. Rick presses his chest against Vyv’s and bites his lip.

When Vyvyan tries to shove Rick’s hand down on his crotch, he stiffens at first, but then breathes out and lets him do it. His cock doesn’t feel so bad. Warm, and firm, with soft skin. Compared to back then, it feels pretty harmless now.

Vyv’s arm has come around Rick’s hip, and his eyes are half-closed. He has a look not even the most dangerous explosive can paint on his face. “This is good. Yeah, that’s nice”, he croaks. Red spots are appearing on his pale face.

Rick hates himself for the hot feeling that’s unfolding in his belly right now. He’s holding Vyv’s cock in his hand, right? He’s got the power, right? Then why does he feel like it’s so bloody important to do what Vyvyan likes?

“Turn on your belly”, he says, in an angry voice.

“Mh!” goes Vyvyan, even happier. “Are we doing it now?”

“Yeah”, says Rick, loudly, in order to drown out the rush of blood in his ears.

 

It’s not like his dream. Not at all. Of course not. Vyv is a guy who once ripped off his own head. A little arse burn doesn’t turn him into a surrendering blob of jelly.

It does affect him, though. He rubs the side of his face over the mattress, a bit of the cover between his teeth, and makes angry little “uhn” noises every time Rick shoves forward.

Penetration faces Rick with new questions. How quickly do you normally thrust? How hard? And how the hell are you supposed to get a rhythm when you have to jerk the other guy off at the same time? And what the hell do you say during the act? Do you speak? Do you shut up? Do you have to call them something during orgasm?

Vyvyan gasps and adjusts his position a little.

“Err… er… are you alright?”

“Sure, yeah!”

Rick has never really been faced with someone else’s arse. Now he’s facing one while he’s fucking the owner. This is kind of embarrassing. He wishes he could communicate with Vyv’s face, but that is half-buried in the pillow. Anyway, he seems to have better things to do than communicate.

“Are you sure that your hamster isn’t watching us?” Rick asks, just to have something to say.

“He’s down in the kitchen. Playing with the cables under the sink.”

“Ah.” Now this is the end of it, Rick just knows it. When you start talking about this kind of thing during sex, there’s something going really wrong. That’s not how it should be, is it? He clears his throat.

Vyv opens one eye. “Why’d you stop?”

“Listen, I’ve thought about it, and this is… this is silly. I mean, I mean… look, this isn’t how it should be, right?”

“Rick?”

“Yes?”

Vyvyan’s back is heaving. He swallows before he can speak. “If you stop now, I’m gonna kill you, and I mean it. I said I want you to fuck me, and I do, so get going, will you?!”

“It’s all going wrong! We just started talking about your sodding hamster, for Cliff’s sake!”

Vyvyan starts to shout. “Well I’m sorry if it’s crap for you, but I like it and I want to get off, so fucking nail me, I’m exploding here!”

This sounds good. The words go right down to Rick’s crotch and leave a hot trail in his belly. Rick leans forward and puts his chin on Vyv’s shoulder. “I just hope I won’t accidentally break your back, that’s all”, he says and thrusts forward again.

“Oh! That’s better.”

Rick closes his eyes. He’s trying not to think about what he’s doing here – fucking Vyvyan, which is embarrassing – but about how tight and hot and nice it feels. It’s hard to concentrate when you have to jerk and thrust and not come at the same time.

“Uh… you better hurry up, Rick, because…” Vyvyan’s back arches, and he tries to catch his breath, “because otherwise, I’m gonna beat you!”

“What? Are you… are you – wait for me, you selfish dirtbag!” Rick thrusts faster. Damn! How’s he supposed to finish at the same time when…

“Oh-UH!” Vyvyan’s body stiffens, his upper body bucks up, strong enough to make Rick slip out if he hadn’t been holding on to Vyv’s hips- and then he gasps like he’s going to cry, and lies still on the bed.

“First”, he says smugly.

Rick can’t answer. He’s too busy giving it to the bastard. Who knows what’s going to happen when they leave this room. What he knows is, here and now, he’s the one breaking Vyv’s cherry, and that first time he was also Vyv’s first fuck. And no matter where he goes and who he does it with, he’ll always know that it was Rick who broke him in, nailed him and marked him and shot his spunk into him just like THIS, and nobody can take that away from Rick.

Vyv’s hand comes over Rick’s on his hip and squeezes it, like a thank-you. This is when Rick feels the wave rise. He’s riding higher and higher, and praying that it’s going to work, praying in general to anybody who will listen, with his breath held tightly in his lungs, and then he falls and gasps and the air is streaming in. He’s sinking on Vyv’s back, smelling his skin, feeling his sweat on his cheek, and finally moans under his breath with relief.

“That wasn’t all bad”, says Vyvyan thoughtfully. “You came last, by the way.”

“That’s not what it’s about, Vyvyan”, says Rick sarcastically and pulls out. Ew, sticky.

Vyvyan falls over and rolls onto his back. Sticks his arm out of bed, finds a cigarette in his pocket and lights it.

“What, you don’t offer me one?”

“Oh, you want one. I didn’t think you’d want one, after last time you tried one. How long did you throw up? Three hours, wasn’t it?”

“Never mind. Cigarettes are an evil of fascist exploitation anyway. Probably orphaned black children on plantations who pluck the tobacco.” Rick turns on his back too.

They’re both facing the ceiling. After a while, Rick feels Vyvyan’s little finger creep up against his own. Rick holds his breath to see what happens.

The finger comes to lie on top of Rick’s little finger. They’re almost intertwined. A strange warmth runs from his hand to his chest. When he looks up, he sees Vyvyan staring at him, face relaxed, and eyes a little sad.

“What?” he asks. He knows what is up, of course, but he’ll be damned if he lets Vyv be so silly and sentimental.

“You know, sometimes I don’t hate you ALL that much”, says Vyv. “Although don’t start thinking I’m getting poofy here or anything. I like to hate you.”

Rick’s heart is throbbing loudly. “Yes”, he says and desperately tries to crack a smile. “I… this is… yes, having someone to hate is so good for you, isn’t it.”

“I don’t think I hate anyone like I hate you”, says Vyv. His eyes are big and blue and sad.

“Well, then”, says Rick, hardly knowing what to say for the rush of blood in his ears, “I’ll just try to hate you as much as I can, shall I.”

Vyvyan smiles a gummy smile.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to Rick. “What if I got you pregnant?”

“Ah, I’ve thought about it”, says Vyv and frowns. “I don’t think guys can get pregnant at all. Or have you ever heard about a pregnant guy?”

“Except for you? No.”

“See? We’re just too clever.”

Rick grins. “I think we’re going to have to try one of these blow jobs some time.”

 

When they come downstairs, Neil is cowering on the sofa, rocking slowly back and forth, a bobble hat pulled into his face as far as possible. Mike is sitting beside him, reading a newspaper.

Neil slowly turns to the two. “I heard what you did there”, he says, deep disgust in his voice. “I heard what you were shouting.”

“Soooo? Got a problem with it, fascist?!” (Attack is probably the best defence here.)

“There’s nothing you can do to me any more”, says Neil glumly and rocks back and forth. “I wish I was deaf. I’ve heard the sounds of ultimate horror. I can never unhear them. Heavyyyy.”

“Rick, be so kind and tell Neil what you guys did up there”, says Mike without taking his eyes off the paper. “For some reason he thinks you were buggering each other.”

“Yes! Right! That’s what we did!” declares Vyvyan happily. “So what, hippie?”

“Stop messing around, you’re driving the poor guy insane”, instructs Mike.

Vyvyan stands in front of Mike, leans forward, until his face is almost level with Mike’s, and says: “Mike. Rick and me were doing poofy things up in his bedroom, what don’t you get about that?”

Mike looks up. “I beg your pardon?”

“They did it”, says Neil. “All is lost. Oh, heavy…” He pulls the bobble hat deeper over his eyes.

“You two did it together?” says Mike, suddenly interested. “So that was the mysterious bird you wanted advice for, Rick? Wow. That’s some bird.”

Vyvyan looks around, scanning the room for a bird.

Mike thinks about this for a bit and then asks: “Doing it together is an option too, of course… are you guys free any time soon?”

“No way. He’s mine”, says Vyv and hooks his arm around Rick’s neck.

“Pity.” Mike goes back to his newspaper.

“You don’t seem surprised”, says Rick coldly. He had expected some kind of resistance or fascist homophobic action to fight.

“More birds for me, that’s all I can say”, says Mike.

“What has been heard can not be unheard”, clamours Neil. “Oh, heavy…”

“Bah, he’s gonna get over it”, says Rick, and tries to turn away, forgetting that Vyvyan is still holding him by the neck lovingly. For a moment, his legs kick and try to give in, but then Vyvyan’s grip forces him to stay upright.

Rickets, who has sat on the TV set and warmed his behind on the air vent, takes the opportunity to speak. “I… have a confession to make. I’m not into hamsters. I’m much more into mice.”

But nobody pays attention to him.

“It’s a sign”, whines Neil. “A sign of the end of the Western civilization. Doom and havoc! Blood will rain from the sky, the rivers will be full of frogs, the air will be filled with insects, and Rick and Vyv are going to do it! The world will end in an explosion of… heavy things!”

“Shut up, you stupid hippie”, shouts Rick. “Look, the sun is shining, no blood rain, no insects, and everything is fine!”

This is when the world ends in a explosion of heavy things. Curiously, they all turn out to be shot put balls.

THE END.


End file.
